I went home and logged on to check my live-journal only to find a pudgy Toronto bottom-feeder has once again exploded in an unprovoked and vituperative paroxysm of libel and slanderous abuse. But that was all right. I held no ill-feelings toward the poutine-loving man-bitch. Who of us hasn't dealt with personal tragedy by lashing out against our idols, after all? And I personally don't know if I would have been able to come to terms with the "Incident" any better. So if he wants to deal with losing his virginity to Warren Ellis in an act of gross anal violation at a tender and impressionable age, by developing a disturbing fixation on the man, which this Ontario-oxygen-wasting-freakshow-gone-ho
Whatever helps you deal, my friend, I say. We're all here for you.
It is the rest of my friends that killed the joy of this holiday as they gathered around this unfortunate mistake of nature and fanned his misdirected rage, egging me on to respond in some childish manner as they wave their pixels around and scream "Fight! Fight!"
My friends, it seems, are a bunch of vicious fuckers.
I take my stand here. For maturity and good taste.
I will not engage in this infantile past-time.
I will be the bigger man. (Which is not that hard from what I hear)
The rest of the post is pretty quotable, too.
On family: People wonder sometimes why the Jews are so over-represented in Diplomatic Service or the Government. Well, people who have never been to a Jewish family gathering wonder that anyway.
The intricate web of complex relationships, psychoses and blood feuds carefully hidden in innocuous phrases along the lines of "Pass the cranberry sauce, please" are on the blood-curdling level of your average meeting of the UN General Assembly.
On a fellow TA's evaluations: "You have a killer smile" it said under the question of "What was the instructor’s strongest point?"
Well. I shrugged. So you're the department’s floozy, I told him. Could be worse.
Nick rubbed his bald spot and hissed at me that it WAS worse.
He was pretty sure it was from a guy.
On his own TA evaluation: More Hawaiian shirts were requested. People also appeared to have missed The Suit. Horror-reeking pages demanded the banishment of the straw hat. Unflattering remarks were made toward my bitchin’ leather coat.
And then they moved on to performing arts.
The first comment asking for more dancing I dismissed as a drug-induced fever dreams of the post-final delirium. The second one, however, and the evaluation remarking on my lap-dancing technique changed my thinking somewhat.
Can you tell that I adore me some doqz something fierce?